


Being Human

by KouriArashi



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Post Season 3, supportive boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 16:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KouriArashi/pseuds/KouriArashi
Summary: Magnus has a lot to learn now that he doesn't have his magic anymore. Fortunately, Alec is there to help.





	Being Human

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me if I made mistakes regarding the use of makeup or the navigation of New York City ... I did the best I could. :)

Everything was so chaotic for a while that Magnus wasn’t sure that Alec even realized that he had become human, that he had no more magic. It wasn’t until three days later, once Alec was fully healed and they were sitting down to breakfast for the first time in a week that he said something. He watched Magnus get up to get himself a new cup of coffee instead of just conjuring one, and said, “So . . . you don’t have any magic at all?”

“Not a drop,” Magnus said, pouring himself the coffee.

“And you’re . . . human?” Alec looked at Magnus, then away. “Mortal?”

“Yes.”

Alec chewed all this over for a minute, watching Magnus stir sugar and cream into his coffee. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.”

Magnus looked over at him and gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t be. It was my choice, and I don’t regret it.”

“I know, I just . . .” Alec huffed out a breath. “I feel like you wouldn’t have even considered it if I hadn’t been such a dick about the whole immortality thing. I shouldn’t have let it bother me like that. I just hated the idea of you being in pain when I died, of being a burden to you, of you . . . forgetting me.”

“I would never forget you.” Magnus reached out and folded Alec’s hand into his own. “I have loved before, and if I had stayed immortal, probably would have loved again. But it wouldn’t have been the sort of love I share with you.”

Alec snuck a glance at him as if assessing his sincerity. Then he said, “Okay. But still. I never meant for you to give it up for my sake.”

“I didn’t give it up for your sake. Well,” Magnus added, with a wave of his hand, “I can’t say that your opinion didn’t play into it at all. But mostly I did it because my power had created something horrible. I thought . . . maybe it would be better not to have it anymore, and if giving it up could undo what it had done . . . it seemed like a fair trade.”

“Okay.” Alec pulled Magnus’ hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss into his knuckles. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. But thank you for worrying about me.”

At this, Alec smiled and said, “You think I’m worried now? The day you get your first gray hair, I’m leaving the country.”

“Oh, Lord,” Magnus said, and then they were both laughing. “Yes, that would probably be for the best. I can assure you right now that I will not age gracefully and will probably respond to every wrinkle as if the Grim Reaper is standing on my doorstep.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Alec said, and leaned in for a kiss.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Magnus looked down at the rows of bottles and palettes in front of himself with something of a grimace. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, Magnus. You can do this. You know how to do this. It’s just been a while, that’s all.”

He started with the primer, then the foundation. Then the contouring, the highlight. It looked all wrong. He frowned and erased it with a wave of his hand – or that was what he intended, but the wave of his hand did nothing. Of course it did nothing. He had no magic. He grabbed a makeup wipe and cleaned it off. Of course, that messed up with foundation layer. He took a few minutes to retouch that.

It took three tries to get the highlight to look right. Then he decided to do his eyes, by far the most important part. He frowned down at the supplies and wondered what order was best. Eyeliner, eyeshadow, then mascara? It seemed like mascara should definitely be last, but what about the other two?

After a moment to think, he Googled it. Vogue said to do eyeshadow first, so he started with that. But he couldn’t get it to look right. No mix of the colors, of the contouring, looked the way he wanted it to. When he tried to fix it, he only made it worse. When he tried to erase it, he damaged the foundation layer, which of course meant he had to do the highlight again –

“Magnus?” Alec knocked quickly before poking his head into the bedroom. “You almost ready to go?”

“Ah, yes, just a minute,” Magnus said, giving Alec a reassuring smile. As soon as he was gone, he looked down at the makeup with a scowl. He could call Catarina. She would be happy to come help him. Hell, Izzy could do a better job just with her own two hands than he was doing. Or he could even just go without.

He decided against all those things. He couldn’t rely on the others. It was just makeup. He’d get it right.

He redid the highlight – it didn’t look as good this time but he didn’t have time to do it yet again – and started the eyeshadow again. It looked . . . passable when he was done. Not like how it usually looked, but at least nothing that would draw undue attention. Then he turned to the eyeliner. Naturally, he immediately poked himself in the eye with it, and hissed in pain and annoyance.

“We’re going to be late,” Alec called out from the other room.

“Hell,” Magnus muttered, then called out, “Two more minutes!”

It came out ridiculously uneven. He added a little more to his left eye – and then it had more than the right eye. He added a little more to his right eye – and then it had more than his left eye. Growling with frustration, he waved an impatient hand to erase it and started over – which of course did nothing.

“Son of a bitch,” he said to the mirror, pinching the bridge of his nose. If he wiped it away, he’d ruin the eyeshadow, and he did _not_ want to do that a seventh time. There was another knock on his door. “Just go without me!” he shouted at it. “I’ll meet you there!”

Rather than obeying, Alec opened the door and came in. He looked at the bottles and palettes all over Magnus’ dresser, then at his face. “You look fine. Let’s go.”

“I look like a raccoon,” Magnus countered, “and I haven’t even done my mascara or my lipstick yet.”

“You don’t need either. You look fine.”

“No,” Magnus said. “I will not be bested by a bunch of powders in plastic cases. I’m not leaving this room until I am fit to be seen in public and nobody will be able to tell the difference.”

Alec regarded him for a long moment, then said, “Okay. When you’re done with that, how about you paint a landscape?”

It was such a non sequitir that Magnus could only blink in confusion. “Pardon?”

“Oh, well, since you’re taking on impossible artistic tasks that you have no reasonable way of knowing how to do, I thought you might like another,” Alec said. When Magnus scowled at him, he walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed. “I know you don’t want to let being human stop you from all the things you want to do. But why do you expect to already know how to do this? You haven’t done your own makeup since before most of this stuff was _invented_.”

“How hard can it possibly be?” Magnus asked, exasperated.

“Don’t ask me. I’m not the one who’s been in here over an hour.”

Magnus looked at the array of makeup and said, “Perhaps I’ve been a little unreasonable.”

Alec reached out and took both of Magnus’ hands in his. “Look, I know that I can’t understand what this is like for you. And I know that you’re stubborn as hell and that’s normally a good thing. A great thing. But this is going to be hard enough for you without you inventing _extra_ challenges for yourself because you don’t want anyone to see you struggling. I’m not saying you need to go to a cosmetology class. But maybe let Izzy come explain to you what all this shit is and how to use it?”

“I can’t imagine that will make us any less late,” Magnus said.

“Late for what?” Alec asked, eyebrows going up. “The Institute dinner is tomorrow, not today. I just figured you’d need a practice run.”

“Oh, you liar,” Magnus said, reaching up and flicking Alec’s nose, but he laughed despite himself. “You know me far too well, Alexander. Yes, then, perhaps Izzy can come over tomorrow and help me learn how to use all of this.”

“Great. Now let me help you get this stuff off.” Alec reached for the package of makeup removal wipes. He rubbed one across Magnus’ cheekbone, gently cleaning off his face. “Oh, and for the record? I don’t know much about makeup, but that is _way_ too much eyeliner.”

“Not another word out of you,” Magnus said, and leaned forward to seal Alec’s mouth shut with a kiss.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Of all the things Magnus hadn’t thought to worry about, food wasn’t one of them. He didn’t think about it until he was sitting at the table with a plate of carbonara and the first bite has him thinking, _I cannot eat this_.

Alec didn’t notice, and he certainly didn’t seem to have any problem eating his own cooking. Magnus looked down at the dish. He had gotten so used to being able to just – alter the meals Alec served that he had forgotten how bad his cooking really was. He couldn’t even say what was wrong with the carbonara besides _everything_. The pasta was overcooked, the sauce was lumpy, and he had added so much garlic and pepper that it was overpowering the more delicate flavors.

“You okay?” Alec asked, when he saw that Magnus had yet to take a second bite.

“Oh, fine, it’s just got a little more pepper than I’m used to,” Magnus said with a reassuring smile.

“Sorry,” Alec said. “I got the recipe from Izzy, and you know what a terrible cook she is.”

“Mm,” Magnus said, somehow not making a comment about it being hereditary. He took another bite and got a lump of – what _was_ that? – and nearly choked. He managed to swallow with effort and then took a gulp of water. “All right. I’m sorry. Honestly. But I can’t eat this. I tried, but I can’t.”

Alec blinked at him, looking clueless. “You don’t like it?”

“Alexander, darling, love of my life, light of my sky, this is literally an insult to every Italian person I have ever met. I did not know it was _possible_ to ruin a dish that was basically just pasta, cheese, and bacon. You are a wonderful man of many, many skills, but cooking is not one of them, and you should stop doing it forever.”

Alec’s mouth twitched. “That bad, huh?”

“Forgive my bluntness, but a thousand times, yes.”

Alec took another bite with aplomb. “You do know that I knew you were using magic to touch up my cooking, right?”

Magnus blinked. “You did?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m not an idiot,” Alec said. “I couldn’t help but notice that what we were eating didn’t taste much like what I thought I had made.

“Ah, yes, well.” Magnus cleared his throat. “You’re welcome?”

Alec let out a snort. “I grew up eating my mother’s cooking, and I’m pretty sure she passed on the gene of terrible cooks to both me and Izzy. But I’ve never really worried about it. Before I met you, I hardly ever did my own cooking. I was worried about cooking for you, but then you just started magicking things behind my back, so I figured it’d be all good.” He looked down at his plate and rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “I made the carbonara because Jace will eat it without complaining, so I figured it couldn’t be _that_ bad, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s not like I know how to cook,” Magnus said. “At least, not without relying heavily on my magic.”

“Maybe we should try to learn together,” Alec said, smiling at him. “Watch one of those mundane cooking shows. We could probably figure it out.”

“That sounds delightful,” Magnus said, then added, “but for tonight, I’m ordering a pizza.”

Alec picked up his plate and carried it over to the trash. “Good call.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“I’m dying,” Magnus groaned to the ceiling.

“You’re not dying,” Alec said patiently.

“If this isn’t what dying feels like, then the universe has a lot to answer for.” Magnus rolled onto his side, grabbed a tissue, and blew his nose for the nine hundredth time. “Ugh, don’t touch me,” he added, as Alec reached out to smooth down his hair. “Don’t look at me, either. I’m revolting.”

“You have a cold,” Alec said. “Here, take this. I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I had to ask Clary to pick something up.”

“You really do love me if you voluntarily asked Clary for help,” Magnus said, opening one eye. He accepted the little cup that Alec handed him, which had two blue pills inside, then the glass of water.

“She said it would help you get some sleep,” Alec said, “but to make sure you stayed hydrated because that would help. So drink that entire glass of water.”

“I feel like liquid is already coming out of every orifice in my head,” Magnus said. “Liquid is the last thing I need. How did I never properly appreciate clear sinuses while I had them? And why is only _one eye watering_? Being sick is ridiculous.”

“Drink your water,” Alec told him.

“A little sympathy would be nice,” Magnus muttered, taking another swallow. “How fast does this stuff kick in? I need to be unconscious an hour ago.”

“I have no idea.” Alec shook his head and stood up, peeling his shirt off, a sight which Magnus admired even in his indisposed state. A moment later, he shed his pants and crawled into bed next to Magnus.

“What part of ‘I’m revolting’ do you not understand?” Magnus asked, as Alec curls up right next to him, pulling him into an embrace.

“I love you,” Alec said. “With or without magic, human or warlock, healthy or leaking from every orifice.”

“You sap,” Magnus said, but he gave a content sigh as Alec caressed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Go to sleep, Magnus,” Alec said. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Magnus opened one eye and looked at him innocently. “No good night kiss?”

“Absolutely not,” Alec said, laughing. “I’ve gotta draw the line somewhere.”

“Seems fair, really.” Magnus pillowed his head against Alec’s shoulder and closed his eyes. A few moments later, he was asleep.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

It wasn’t like Magnus didn’t know how to navigate New York City. He didn’t portal _everywhere_. Restaurants and shops had a tendency to take it badly if someone opened a magical wormhole and showed up on their doorstep. So he figured he was fully capable of making it to the Institute without needing a guide.

Of course, the problem was that he didn’t actually know the Institute’s address. He wasn’t sure the Institute _had_ an address. He thought it was in Park Slope somewhere. Possibly Prospect Heights. Which meant it wasn’t far at all from his loft, which was in Flatbush. He could just hop on the subway and take it up a few stops, get off and get the lay of the land.

The lay of the land at the stop was completely unfamiliar. He frowned as he looked around, studying his surroundings. Had he gone the wrong way? He didn’t think so. Maybe it was further north than he had thought it was.

He took out his phone and considered calling Alec. Then he decided against it, and instead Googled ‘abandoned churches Brooklyn’. He found a page that stated there were almost two dozen shuttered religious sites, and sighed. Still, he had time. Alec wasn’t expecting him – he had just wanted to surprise him with a visit.

Pacific and Fourth looked about the right area. He took a moment to get his bearings and then started walking.

The abandoned church there was architecturally interesting, but showed no signs of being the façade for a secret organization of angelic warriors. The next one on the list looked to be several miles away, so after a moment to think it over, he called himself an Uber. It showed up a few minutes later, and he gave the address.

“Ah, this can’t be right,” he said, as they started to cross a bridge. “We’re going into Manhattan.”

“Yeah, the address you gave me is Manhattan,” the driver said.

Magnus frowned at his phone. “But the article said it was in Brooklyn.”

The driver shook his head. “That address doesn’t exist in Brooklyn. Sixteenth street, sure, but you said _west_ sixteenth street.”

“For God’s sake,” Magnus said. He’s not sure whether he should assume the article was wrong about the address, or wrong about the church being in Brooklyn. What he _does_ know is that he doesn’t want to be in Manhattan. “Well, take me to the address on sixteenth street in Brooklyn, if you’d be so kind, and I’ll see if that’s the right place.”

“Sure thing,” the driver said, changing lanes so he could turn around once they were off the bridge.

The address in Brooklyn was definitely _not_ an abandoned church of any kind. Magnus paid the Uber driver anyway, and got out. He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, looking around, and again thought about texting Alec. Or just going home. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the area right near the Institute. What was that little coffee shop Clary always had a cup from? It had some cutesy cute name . . .

“Communitea!” he said to himself, drawing nary a strange look from the New Yorkers, who couldn’t have cared less. He put that in his phone, found an address, and called another Uber.

Twenty minutes later, he was standing outside the coffee shop and had to admit that nothing looked familiar. There was some construction not far away, but certainly nothing that looked like an abandoned church. Maybe the coffee shop was a chain? Had he gone to the wrong one? Did Clary just take the subway to a special coffee shop because she liked it that much, rather than going to one right by the Institute?

His phone chimed, and he jumped. He looked down to see a text from Alec that read, ‘where are you?’

‘Out and about,’ Magnus replied. ‘Why?’

‘I brought lunch home and you aren’t here.’

Magnus looked down at his phone and sighed slightly. He remembered what Alec had said about not creating extra challenges for himself, bit the bullet, and hit the button to call. “Hello, darling,” he said, when Alec picked up. “I’m incredibly lost.”

Alec huffed out a quiet laugh. “Where did you try to go?”

“The Institute, for a surprise visit. But I didn’t know the address, and let me tell you that Google is nowhere near as helpful as it pretends to be, and now I’m not even sure where I _am_ , let alone how to get home from here.”

“Okay, get that app Clary and Simon use to do their Siamese twin impression,” Alec said, and now it was Magnus who laughed. “Find my friend, I think it’s called.”

A few minutes later, Magnus had the app installed, and Alec called him back, saying, “How did you end up in Queens?”

“Earlier I ended up in Manhattan,” Magnus said, and Alec laughed again. “Be gentle with me, Alexander. I haven’t had to navigate on my own since this city was in its infancy.”

“Okay, if you take the G train, you can take that from where you are all the way back to Prospect Park. Get off there and I’ll meet you and walk you home.”

“I can find my way home from Prospect Park,” Magnus said.

“I’ll meet you there anyway.”

A little while later, they were eating lunch in the park, and Magnus was telling Alec about his adventures. “So Clary just goes to a coffee shop in Queens for the ambiance?” he said, after using the internet to determine that Communitea isn’t a chain.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask me to explain anything Clary does.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Alec was in the kitchen doing dishes when he heard a loud thump from the other room. He glanced over but didn’t stop what he was doing until he heard Magnus call out. “Um. Darling? Could you, perhaps, come help me?”

He set aside the dishes and went into the library, only to find Magnus in a heap on the floor. “You okay?”

“Ah, well. I think I might have sprained something, and not just my dignity.”

“What’d you do?” Alec asked, getting an arm underneath Magnus’ shoulders and helping him to his feet.

Magnus winced when he tried to put weight on his leg. “Well, see, I needed that book on the top shelf. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in the past. So I climbed up onto the table to get to it. And then stepped down off the table, completely forgetting the fact that I couldn’t rely on magic to get me down, despite the fact that I wouldn’t have even been _on_ the table if I still had my magic.”

Alec pictured Magnus stepping off the table, all graceful nonchalance, and then falling flat on his face. He had to bite back a grin despite himself, wishing that he had been there to see it. “What hurts?”

“My left leg. And my right wrist. I put out my arm to break my fall and landed on it quite heavily.”

“Okay.” Alec helped Magnus over to the sofa. His leg seemed all right, but when Alec gently squeezed his wrist, he gave a pained hiss. “Oh, yeah. That might actually be broken.”

Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course.”

“I don’t actually know much about mundane doctors,” Alec admitted, frowning. “We don’t really need them any more than warlocks do.”

“Please don’t call Clary,” Magnus said. “Every time I have a humiliating experience, we have to call Clary. I’m sure Catarina can tell me what to do with a broken wrist.”

Not only did Catarina know what to do, but she agreed to meet them at the hospital and help them bypass some of the issues they would undoubtedly have with Magnus being unfamiliar with the mundane world. A few hours later, he has a cast on his wrist and an Ace bandage wrapped around his sprained ankle, a prescription for painkillers, and – at Catarina’s recommendation – a carton of ice cream.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

It had been a month. A month of trial and error, with heavy emphasis on the latter. A month of bumps and bruises and frustrations. A month of triumphs both small, like when he flipped an omelet successfully, and large, like when he killed a rogue vampire with nothing more than his own strength and cunning. A month during which Alec had both coached him through things that children could do with ease, and given him space when he insisted on figuring something out himself.

“If you could have it back, would you want it?” Alec asked, watching Magnus get the cork out of a wine bottle with newfound efficiency.

Magnus glanced over at him and seemed to ponder the question for a moment. “I’m not sure, to be honest. There are things that I definitely miss. But there are also things I’ve learned to really enjoy about being human. I don’t regret what I did, and if I had to do it again, I would. If I could have my magic back without changing what happened, I would probably take it. But the odds of that happening seem vanishingly slim, and I prefer not to focus on might-have-beens or someday-could-bes. I’m fine with the way things are.”

“And . . . your immortality?” Alec ventured.

“I’ve lived a long time, Alexander. I always knew it would end someday. Most people don’t get to choose their own ending. I did.” Magnus leaned in for a kiss. “What better way to end it than with you?”

Alec studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded, his face crinkling into a smile. “As long as you’re okay.”

“More than.” Magnus poured them each a glass of wine, handed Alec’s over, and held up his own for a toast. “To our future.”

Alec clinked his glass against Magnus’. “To every minute I get to spend with you.”

They sit down on the sofa together. Magnus leans in and murmurs into Alec’s ear, “The only real regret I have is that I can’t use my magic to vanish all our clothes,” and Alec promptly dumps his wine all over his shirt. “Oh dear,” Magnus says, laughing. “I haven’t learned yet how to get wine stains out. I suppose at least it’s a dark color fabric.”

“Better get Googling,” Alec says, stripping the sodden shirt over his head, “because if we ask Clary, she’ll want to know what happened, and I’m not telling her.”

“Mm hm.” Magnus eyes his now shirtless boyfriend with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll look it up later. Much later.”

Much later, he does.

 

~ ~ ~ ~


End file.
